The Prophecy
by PhoenixFeather0198
Summary: We all know of that fateful prophecy that destroyed Harry's life. But what if it was the other way around? What if Voldermort chose to believe that the intended person was Neville, and not Harry? Read on to find out... Chapter 2 now up! Please R&R! :)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction, so please bear with me, I'm slowly getting the hang of it! Hope you enjoy :)**

The Prophecy

"Frank, he's asleep, I've put him to bed" Alice Longbottom said, coming back down the stairs into the living room.

"Thank you dear – did he go quietly?"

"Yes yes, no trouble"

"Good – he'll be here soon, got your wand?" Frank asked his wife. He was referring to Dumbledore, who was to be delivering to them a top-secret mission briefing. They had been foretold about this two weeks ago by the great wizard, who at the time had appeared very worried and distracted.

Alice and Frank had thought nothing of it at the time, for they assumed he was simply worried about Voldermort, as they all were. But as they sat and waited, their thoughts became gradually darker, full of doubt and concern.

They sat in silence for a while longer, the only sound being their slow simultaneous breathing, like a clock counting down the seconds.

Just when Alice was about to get up to make themselves a cup of tea, there came a blinding streak of white light, hurtling down towards them. Alice jumped and clutched her husband's wrist, while he started to draw his wand. Then, recognising the shape, they both relaxed and turned to face the patronus.

It was Albus Dumbledore's voice that spoke out of the silver phoenix's beak, gentle and clear:

"_He is coming. Gather your son and put up the enchantments. The Fidelius Charm has been broken. You are in grave danger. He is coming."_

* * *

The slit like pupils gazed at the house in the distance. It was ablaze with light, he could see them in one of the rooms. Their movement was frantic, and the mother was cradling the baby boy against her chest while the father was waving his wand out the window.

With a high, cold laugh, he continued to fly towards the house. Did they really think, that _protective enchantments_ would help them? Help them, against the greatest, most powerful wizard who ever existed? Idiotic.

He extended a long thin hand holding his wand towards the wooden front door. He could almost feel their fear, smell their panic.

The door creaked open. He saw them, standing in the hallway together, wands raised. With a casual flick of his wand, he deflected their cries of attack. With a snake-like movement, he stepped over the threshold.

"Crucio!" he cried, pointing his wand at the girl. With a shout of agony, she fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

"How dare you!" The man roared, shooting a spell at the Dark Lord, which was immediately deflected.

"Avada kedavra" he said, with a lazy flick of his wand. It was easy, too easy, he decided. But that displeased him. And that which displeases Lord Voldermort must be corrected. "Crucio!" he cried again at the girl on the floor, who rose and stood before him, and shouted,

"Reducto!"

"Crucio!"

"WAAAAHHHHH!", the flashing lights had awoken the boy upstairs.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldermort said, with a final casual flick. He must not become distracted, the boy was his intention, not his parents – no matter how fun they were to play with. He was beginning to see and understand the satisfaction Bellatrix got from carrying out the murderous deeds he asked of her.

Silently, he appeared to float up the stairs and towards the source of the wailing. Oh, how he despised children and their infernal wailing. At such inconvenient times too. Still, this one's cries wouldn't be heard for much longer.

Walking towards the cot, he saw the baby for the first time. It was a chubby little thing, dressed in blue teddy-bear pyjamas.

For a minute Voldermort stopped and stared at it, watching how it turned as silent as the grave as he approached. Funny. Did it know that it was just about to journey there?

With a final flick of his wand, the baby froze, truly silent this time. As realisation seemed to dawn in it's tiny sapphire eyes, he fell backwards onto the mattress, moving no more.

* * *

"James, he's asleep, I've put him to bed" Lily Potter said, coming into the living room to sit down next to her husband.

Kissing the top of her head, James replied, "Good good. No trouble I presume?"

"None."

Smiling, James wrapped his arm around Lily's waist, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

Content to fall asleep in each other's arms, the Potter's had no idea of their near fate, no idea of the murders committed that night. For them, all was well.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Sorry about Neville :'( Please leave me a review, it makes me so happy and it only takes a minute to do so! This is a one-shot but if you have any ideas/want it to continue, PM me? -PhoenixFeather0198**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Funeral

**A/n: Hello again :) I know this was originally going to be a one-shot, but I had this follow-up chapter in my head and it wouldn't go away! I can now leave this as a two-shot if you want, or I can continue to update this - let me know what you think! Reviews always appreciated :) Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 2 – The Funeral

The date was 7th November. Exactly a week after _it _had happened. She was still in shock, still couldn't make herself accept the truth – that Frank and Alice Longbottom, a pair of the greatest Aurors she knew, were dead, along with their son. It was just impossible. How could two brave, courageous and smart Aurors be killed just like that? Surely their son at least would have survived?

But she knew how. For Lily Potter was not stupid. She knew that _he_ had killed them, and she knew that it could very easily been her family that could have received the Longbottom's fate.

She was relieved, so intensely grateful that she and her family were still alive. But this just made her feel even worse. It made her disgusted that she could feel _glad _that they were alive. For she wished that they could be dead, and for the Longbottom's lives to be spared, so she wouldn't have to feel this pain that was so surreal to her.

James doesn't understand. He would never fully understand her pain. Of course he was in pain too, but he had managed (albeit only half-successfully) to block out the pain, to numb it for a while. So he couldn't fully grasp why she was so upset, while she still fell asleep with hot tears trickling down her face.

It was with these thoughts that Lily lay, wide awake in bed, waiting for morning to dawn.

* * *

When morning finally graced Godric's Hollow with it's presence, it was a reluctant and gloomy one.

"Great. Just what I need." Lily muttered to herself as the spilt coffee on her pyjama top turned into a dark murky stain, due to her distracting herself by looking out the window.

Taking off the now ruined top and covering herself with her dressing gown, Lily sat down at the table, buttered herself some toast, and reached for the newspaper. Good, the Prophet hasn't reported anything yet. Lily didn't think she could cope with the whole Wizarding World knowing – not just yet anyway. That would make it official, it would mean that she couldn't just pretend it was just a bad nightmare any longer.

The thuds coming from upstairs told her James was awake. Quickly replacing the Prophet back on the chair and switching on the washing machine so that her top would at least attempt to make itself presentable once more, Lily tried to make it appear that nothing was out of place and that everything was normal. Recently James was seeming to loose patience with her tears. He never showed it, but Lily could tell. He would mysteriously grow quiet when the tears came, mysteriously vanish for a few hours before returning with a vacant look and a meaningless shrug as a reply for her words of concern.

It could definitely be said that Lily was worried about it, but it was an odd sort of worry. Curiosity would probably deemed more appropriate. She wondered where he went and what he did, but she never panicked, as she knew that he loved her, and always would, and that he probably just needed some alone time – a break from it all.

* * *

When 2 o'clock chimed itself present, the Potters were all set to go. Lily had arranged for Bathilda to come and look after Harry for a couple of hours while they attended the funeral, and she had everything that she needed.

"James are you ready, love?" She called up the stairs.

"Yes, just a minute hold on!"

"Alright, Bathilda's coming in 5 minutes, so hurry up!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." James grumbled, coming down the stairs. Lily grinned. He was wearing her favourite black suit, and he had attempted to flatten his hair. It was shocking how reminiscent he looked of his 17-year-old self: untidy black hair and a casual grin, complete with circular black glasses that framed his face – gorgeous.

Trying not to stare at James with a stupid grin on her face as they met Bathilda and waved as she closed their door, Lily tried to focus on the road ahead – well, the suffocating black darkness that was the unpleasant sensation of apparition ahead.

* * *

She was crying. Yet again. She knew it would happen – it was a _funeral_ after all – and for once she didn't try to hide it. Her reason: James. He was by her side holding her hand, trying to appear in control of himself despite the soft tears which were gently falling around his face. Looking down at her, he gave her hand a soft little squeeze – and in that instant, Lily knew it was going to be ok. For whatever situation the world would throw at them next, she had James by her side, and their love would carry them through.

* * *

**Once again, thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and please leave me a review! It only takes a minute! Thanks, see you soon :) ~PhoenixFeather0198**


End file.
